Axis Powers Hetalia: Worse and Worse
by Ehren Hatten
Summary: Is it Alfred's inherent paranoia that's bothering him, or is the president really what he seems to be, that is the ultimate question. Things just seem to keep getting worse and worse.
1. Part One

_A/N: worse and worse… I listen to Rush Limbaugh and watch the news and these things just make me imagine what Alfred's like right now._

**Worse and Worse**

_Part One_

"Us Democrats can't run away," said Representative Lloyd Doggett on the televeision, "We've got to stand up and fight back against them." He was talking about the people who protested against him at the local Randalls grocery store when he was discussing the health care bill that the president was forcing. No one wanted it except for the uninformed and the ones in the president's pocket. Hannah Cook, the embodiment of Texas, sat staring at the television looking like she could shoot her television… again. She kept her old revolver away from her for these moments and picked up the bottle of tequila she just bought a month ago. She poured herself a shot and drank it down quickly and put the cap on the bottle quickly before she could consume more. The last thing she needed to be was drunk. That being said, she had plenty reason to want to be.

Hannah was a beautiful woman, tall, strong, with a well endowed chest and small waist. Her hair was a wild, unruly, red curly mess that she had neglected to correct from rushing home to watch the latest local news. She had been to that protest, shouting with the rest of the people. People held aloft signs and were demanding he change his mind on his decision to say "yes" to the health care bill that would incorporate a national health care insurance and a lot of other things at the same time. People wouldn't be allowed to have their private insurance in the end; the elderly would be forced to die because they would be too big of a burden on the system the president was forcing through. Not even all of congress wanted it, but they instead blamed their reluctance on anyone but themselves.

Once again, she made sure her revolver was far away from her. She picked up the remote control from the table beside her and turned off the television. Things were getting worse and worse. She knew it would, she knew it deep down in her very being. She'd seen just as bad before from Mexico's leaders, she'd seen it in Germany's leader and Russia's leaders. It didn't even help that the school system hardly bothered to teach children all of history, instead they cherry-picked the facts they wanted and neglected the rest. History kept on repeating itself. Texas was Texas, Texans were Texans, but even Texas herself had to admit that she had her limit of allowing some of her own children, the Texans, to act as they will. She was thankful that governor still stood his ground, but for how long?

"Texas has yet to learn to submit to oppression, no matter where it comes from," was what Sam Houston had said to the people as well as her so long ago. She was still as wild as ever and she saw the proof that she was still the mirror of the children of Texas that day at the protest. She had warned America, Alfred F. Jones, that it was going to get worse. Oh God how she wished she wasn't right.

* * *

Alfred F. Jones, the embodiment of the United States of America, sat in his chair in his Washington, D.C. home and stared at the television. He had grown to loathe watching the news, but he was loathed to not watch it as well. It was a very nasty "catch-22" he'd landed himself in. On one hand he wanted to finish the day after a meeting with the president without having his paranoia struck up once more by the news. It was bad enough that he had to endure the paranoia coming up when he spoke to the president and listened to congress or the senate. On the other hand he didn't want to miss what more these people had to say to insult, berate and completely tear down the American people for standing up for what it means to be American.

"The people coming into these protests," said the speaker of the house on the television, "are wearing swastikas and other such symbols."

Alfred spat out his coca-cola in a spray at his television set and coughed hard enough he had to hit himself on his chest to get his breathing back. What the fuck was that woman on about this time?! Swastikas! The American people protesting and exercising their right to assembly and free speech were suddenly _Nazis_ because they demanded that their government actually pay attention and listen to them?

Alfred wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and sat back into his chair, looking at the coke dripping off the screen of the T.V. He slammed his hand down on the remote and changed the channel to see if he could find something else. One station had people berating Rush Limbaugh for his stupid diet plan, which he could care less about; another station was calling the protesters an angry mob of "right wing radicals" and blamed Rush Limbaugh and other such television and talk show people as the instigators of the movement. It was like Alfred was in the Twilight Zone, except this time Rod Serling wasn't about to pop out of no where and start giving the premise of the story—at least Alfred hoped Rod Serling wasn't about to pop out of no where. Alfred was sure that if Mr. Serling did come back from death to do that to him that Alfred would probably have a heart attack right there.

Alfred got to his feet when he could take no more and pulled his converse sneakers on and picked up his cell phone, hitting his girl California's phone number. He was going to book a flight over to California as soon as he could to get some semblance of reality back to him. "Hey! How's my golden girl, huh?" he said as charmingly as he could. He didn't want to alarm his favorite of the state girls, after all. She had enough to worry about than him.

"I don't know, why don't you try actually calling her," said a familiar voice. It wasn't California. No, it was male.

"Eh? Who's this? You're too soft spoken, man, speak up. How'd you get into my girl's house, huh?" asked Alfred sharply.

"What are you talking about, Alfred? It's me, Matt. You know… your _brother_," said Matthew Williams, Canada, on the other end.

"Oh." Alfred frowned and looked at the screen on his new phone. He did long for the new gadgets people could put into these new phones, especially the Japanese ones. Oh! That was someone else he needed to talk to eventually. The screen read "Alaska's home", which meant Matt was visiting Alaska. "OH!" he cried out rather loudly as he put the phone back up to his ear. "You're visiting Aga, eh? Hey, you aren't getting her knocked up are you?"

There was an audible, exasperated groan on Matt's end. Alfred liked to exasperate his twin time to time, especially with something that involved sex. Of course, trying to have actual children, in regards to the countries and states and provinces, protectorates and colonies, was impossible. It was sort of like Highlander that way, if Alfred thought about it, except without the cool sword fighting and special effects and quickening. Oh, and they could die, get sick, bleed and age, but it was usually tied to the state of the nation rather than an individual effort. Then, he sighed and spoke again with less irritation. "Look, if you're trying to call Mia, why don't you hang up and call her?"

"How's Aga?" asked Alfred.

"Aga? You don't usually call to ask how she is. Is everything all right?" asked Matt.

"Hey! She's one of my girls, right? I mean, yeah, you get to have sex with her or whatever it is you both do"—at this point Matt was shouting Alfred's name rather angrily—"But it's not like I never see or talk to her ever. I just, y'know, prefer hanging out with the other girls."

Aga Tukkuttok, the state of Alaska, a very pretty Inuit woman with long, straight black hair and bright gold eyes like a wolf's, was not someone Alfred enjoyed the idea of having sex with. It probably had something to do with the fact that Alfred bought her when she was a little kid, practically a baby, from Russia and then sort of ignored her for most of that childhood before having a small hand in trying to raise her properly himself. It was a very awkward feeling he got whenever he got anywhere near her and, while he was obligated since there were only thirteen girls to deal with to come to them and share time with them whenever they asked him to, he simply had trouble doing that with the usually quiet and extremely blunt Miss Alaska.

"Whatever," muttered Matt.

"Is that Alfred, Matt?" asked Aga in the background. "Tell him to remind me when the next meeting is. I need to book ahead of schedule to make a plane flight down there."

"Ah—ah, that's all right, Aga. I can remind you, if you want. Ah—it's not any trouble," said Matt softly.

"Tell her I'll remind her!" said Alfred in his usual cheerful tone.

Matt sighed. "All right," he said, "Talk to you later. Oh, and don't forget that two weeks from now you're coming over for—er—you know—the stuff."

"Oh! Oh yeah! Right! I totally forgot, man! Hey! I'll bring the snacks!" said Alfred, grinning.

"Whatever," mumbled Matt. Then, he hung up. Alfred could have laughed to himself, but he still didn't feel any better for talking, however little, to his twin brother Canada. He made sure he hit the right name as he scrolled through the phone book on his phone and waited as California's waiting song came up. Alfred sang to it, "I wish they all could be California girls!"

"Alfred?" asked Mia Brown on the other end of the phone. "How are you, Alfred?"

"Just dandy! Perfectly normal and everything, of course! Just had a bit of a long day and thought I'd sweet talk my golden girl a little," said Alfred brightly. Of course, Mia knew him better than that, however. She'd seen him more than enough times going through his paranoia.

"Alfred," she said softly, "Are you sure you're all right? You sound a little… um… strained, I guess."

Right on target, as usual.

Alfred sat down finally and leaned into the plush lay-z boy chair. "Alfred, please talk to me. What's wrong?" asked Mia again.

"Was watching the news earlier," said Alfred finally, softer than usual.

"Oh, Alfred," said Mia. She knew how much it bothered him when he watched the news, especially lately. "Alfred, why don't you book a flight over here? It would do you some good to get away from there."

"Yeah?" asked Alfred.

"Yeah," said Mia softly. He could practically hear her gentle smile through the receiver.

"Okay," said Alfred, "I'll do that."

Mia's voice, still as gentle as ever, rang in his ear. "And please don't watch the news, okay? I know how much it bothers you. Just take a break from it."

"Okay," said Alfred softly.

"I love you," she said gently in his ear.

"I love you, too, Mia," he answered. Then, she hung up.

* * *

"Alfred," inquired the president, his dark eyes almost glaring at Alfred, "You haven't answered me."

"Sorry, sir," said Alfred quickly. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from the president so he didn't have to look into those dark eyes that always seemed to glare at him lately like he'd done something wrong to the man. "What were you saying?"

"I asked you if you could tell me what the other states are saying about this health care bill," said the president, "and anything else. I'm afraid there's a lot of…'disinformation' being spread around about my policies and the bill."

Alfred clenched his fists under the table. "No, sir. I haven't spoken to the girls, lately."

"I need to know if they've heard anything, America," he said, "Because there's a lot of 'disinformation' about how my health care bill is going to take away private health care insurance and force the elderly out of their health care insurance."

"You told a woman that her grandmother probably didn't need a pace maker, but instead should instead take a 'pain pill', sir," said Alfred, clenching his fists tighter.

"You see," said the president, "That's what I mean. I wasn't telling her to only give her grandmother a pain pill, it was just a hypothetical question to begin with and I suggested that maybe it was just a better idea to not give an older person a pace maker, but give them the pain pill instead." After a moment of straightening things on his desk, the president looked to Alfred again. "What else is bothering you?"

"What's with all these bodyguards?" asked Alfred. "The… I.S.E.U. or some thing like that—I don't remember what they're called—they have been used as sort of bouncers for bumping people out of the town hall meetings you suggested the congress people do to explain your ideas, sir."

"What about them? That mob is dangerous. They could seriously injure the congress men and women," said the president.

"They're not a mob, sir, they're just angry, tired and very upset people trying to make congress listen to them," said Alfred, finally looking at the president. For once he was not smiling or looking away from the dark man's eyes, echoing the sharp look that filled the president's dark eyes. "What about those bouncers beating up some guy for selling 'Don't Tread On Me' flags, huh? He was put into a hospital because of that. What about the people not allowed to have a voice, or the people being cherry-picked to listen to the congress people if they express the same views?" The president opened his mouth to speak, but Alfred kept going. "What about them, sir? What about them? These 'bodyguards' are nothing more than thugs! You're putting thugs out there to harm people who are opposing your views! They have as much right to speak as you or I do! They have even **more** right to voice what they want than either one of **us** do! _What about them?_"

The president calmly looked at Alfred, though Alfred could see he hit a nerve. The anger in the man's eyes at being questioned was palpable. "I told you to stop listening to those right wing radicals on the radio and on that news network."

"Fox News is the only one reporting anything! The rest are just saying what you want them to!" snapped Alfred.

The president stood up, his hands on the desk as he leaned toward Alfred. "I've got a meeting with the prime minister of the United Kingdom. I'm sure you'll want to see your friend Kirkland again."

"Brother, man, he's my older brother!" corrected Alfred. "And you still haven't answered me!"

"The meeting is over. I'll have to speak to the states directly, I see," said the president. "I'll start with California, since you talk to her so often."

For the first time since the president took office Alfred grabbed him by his collar and pulled him to him with so much force the president accidentally knocked off several things from his desk. Alfred glared at him angrily, those blue eyes of his livid. "Don't you dare get near her or any of the other girls!" he snarled.

"I'm the president and I have the same right to talk to them as you do," said the president coolly. He then called out for one of the secret service agents waiting on stand-by. They were never usually allowed into the oval office when the president was having a meeting with the strange, constant teenager. "Escort Mr. Jones outside, please. Our meeting is done."

The secret service agent eyed Alfred sharply and grabbed his shoulder hard enough to make even Alfred wince. Alfred dropped his hands and moved away from the president. He then let the secret service agent escort him out of the White House. Once out, Alfred took his time walking all the way back to his home. Once there, he pulled out another cell phone, not his usual, one he bought directly from Japan himself, and dialed Hannah's number. "Yo, Hannah," he said into the phone, "Look, I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it, Alfred?" asked Hannah. She had something in her mouth for her speaking ability was a bit limited by the sound of it.

"Eating?" asked Alfred.

"Nah," said Hannah, "Cleaning my guns. Had a piece between my teeth when you called."

"Keep them handy," said Alfred. "I...I need you do me a favor. Could you please talk to the other southern girls when you can? I'm going to have a hard enough time talking to the northern girls."

"About what, honey?" asked Hannah, her Texas drawl as prevalent as ever.

"The president asked me to rat out the girls for spreading…'disinformation'," he said. "Tell them to keep their eyes out and know that something is definitely up with the people in office now."

"I told you it was happening, Alfie," said Hannah, "But you're so optimistic so I don't push the issue."

Alfred rubbed his face and smiled a little. "I'm also going to take a bit of a vacation, okay? I'm going to go see Mia," he said.

"Oh? Tell Mia I miss her and that she's welcome for some barbeque anytime over here," said Hannah, "I've not had a chance to talk to her. Been yelling a lot at that idiot Lloyd Doggett and few others."

"Oh, yeah?" asked Alfred.

"Got a little revenge out of his pasty ass, though," said Hannah triumphantly, "I toilet papered the shit outta his house and trees. He's got sprinklers too. Lots of them."

"Aw shit, that must've been fun!" cried Alfred, laughing. "Hey, next time you go do that why don't you tell me in advance and I'll get my sexy self over there, eh?"

"While I admit you're sexy, you're still a nerd, Alfred," teased Hannah. "I'll talk to you later, okay? And don't worry. We southerners enjoy a good brawl. Even Georgia and you know how prissy she is."

"Yeah, yeah," said Alfred. "I'll talk to you later." Then, he hung up and looked to the other phone he normally used which was in his other hand. It could just be a fear, strictly paranoia, but he didn't want to take a chance that his normal phone that he carried with him was bugged. He always kept the phone he bought directly from Japan in a secret place on his body and only gave the number to the state girls.

There was a knock on the door of his house that made him jump almost to the ceiling. Clutching his chest and breathing a bit steadier to calm his rapidly beating heart, he eyed the door warily. He grabbed his pistol out of a drawer from a hallway table and checked to see if there was a round in the chamber. Then, he moved closer to the door, edging carefully to look out the side window to see who it was. There was another impatient knock and he reached for the doorknob, gun by his side.

"Oi! Alfred! Open the door!" called a very familiar and welcome English accented voice. Alfred relaxed and stowed the gun back in the drawer before opening the door and leaning out. "Hey! Arthur! It's been a while! Come over to have a drink or something?" asked Alfred, grinning broadly at Arthur Kirkland, The United Kingdom, as the smaller man sort of eyed him with that perpetual frown on his face.

Arthur, much shorter than Alfred, was also slighter in his build than Alfred, more wiry than Alfred or even Matt ever thought of being. He had a handsome face and a wild mess of blonde hair that never stayed well groomed without a great deal of effort on Arthur's part. His thick eyebrows were a part of his face that everyone enjoyed having a good laugh at, especially France. Alfred smiled pleasantly at the smaller Englishman as the other sort of glared at him with those unnaturally bright green eyes of his. "Don't grin at me like that, Alfred, and for God's sake, let me in. It is hot as Hell out here!"

Alfred laughed and moved aside for Arthur and let the smaller Englishman by. Arthur walked in and Alfred, for one moment, caught Arthur looking to that hallway table with some plants in pots sitting on it and that drawer he only partially closed, the gun hastily put back inside. Alfred closed the door and locked it before walking past Arthur to nonchalantly close the drawer and walk past him to the kitchen. "So! What d'you want, huh? Some tea? Coffee? Coke? Oh! Maybe you'd like some of the whiskey Texas bought me. Oh, wait, I've also got some moonshine West Virginia gave me. It'll kill anything inside you," Alfred babbled as he went around his kitchen looking for these various things.

"I saw you being escorted out of the White House," said Arthur as he stood in the sitting room, watching Alfred move around the kitchen through the door. Alfred stopped and put the jar of moonshine on the counter before he could drop it. "Is something happening?" asked Arthur.

"Ah—no, of course not! Whatever would make you think something like that, huh? Anyway, I'm escorted lots of times out of the White House! I remember one time with Nixon that was kinda funny," said Alfred quickly. "Besides, it's nothing to worry about. You know me; I'm sometimes a bit too much for the old guys to follow around all the time!"

"I'll take tea, Alfred," said Arthur. "Oh, I brought you one of the new albums I've become interested in."

"Really?!" shouted Alfred, grinning. "Sweet! I'll get you some of my music off my iPod for you! It'll be a fair trade, yeah?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but nodded to Alfred and pulled the C.D. from his jacket pocket and put it on the table. He sat down in one of the chairs and waited as Alfred brought out a sleek new laptop computer and plugged his iPod into the port. He then put a C.D. into the C.D. tray and started fixing up the C.D. to burn off the album Alfred wanted to trade for the album Arthur brought over. "So what kind of music is it, eh?"

"Punk," said Arthur, leaning back into the chair. He smirked a bit at Alfred as the younger man laughed.

"Seriously, Arthur, you're freakin' weird, y'know? You're all stiff and wearing those suits or sweaters and ties and stuff and you listen to this stuff. Not that I mind, since you bring me some awesome tunes," said Alfred.

Arthur grunted in mild irritation. "I'm a gentleman, idiot! Besides, I was a pirate before this and I was a thief before even that! But above all I'm a gentleman!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Alfred as he made the C.D. for Arthur. When he was done, he labeled the C.D., wrote down what songs were on it and put both the song list and the C.D. into a jewel case for Arthur, setting it down in front of the roguish Englishman.

The sound of the tea pot whistling loudly cut into Alfred's ears sharply. He stood up quickly and went to pour the tea as Arthur watched him, frowning deeply. "Alfred, there's something wrong, isn't there. I know you're a complete idiot and rush into things without thinking, but you're acting off!" called Arthur from the sitting room.

Alfred gave a short laugh and fixed Arthur's tea for him. "There's nothing wrong, Engy!" shouted Alfred. He put in the amount of sugar Arthur usually liked and stirred it in before walking out and putting the cup down in front of Arthur.

"Don't call me 'Engy'! It's demoralizing!" snapped Arthur. He lifted up the tea cup and blew on it before sipping and coughing. "Hothothothot!" Alfred laughed at the Englishman as Arthur waved his hand in front of his mouth to cool it down. "Shut it, wanker!" snapped Arthur.

The normal phone for Alfred rang; the tune "Here Comes the Chief" playing to signify it was coming from the White House. Alfred eyed it warily and Arthur finally looked to him suspiciously when Alfred wasn't walking over to pick it up immediately. Alfred smiled brightly at Arthur and waved at him, "I'll be right back! I've got to take this, Arthur." Then, he stood up and walked over to the cell phone and picked it up, hit a button and put it to his ear. "Yo! How are you, sir!"

Arthur watched Alfred carefully, noting that Alfred was even tenser than he had been when Arthur had arrived. Arthur frowned deeply again and sipped his tea a little more. "Yeah, sir, he's here. You done with your meeting? Oh, cool, okay. Yeah, I don't mind letting him stay here if he wants. It's not a problem."

"Don't worry about it, Alfred, I've got a hotel room," said Arthur.

"Arthur says he'll stay at a hotel," said Alfred. "Was there anything else you needed, sir? No? Okay! Talk to you later!" Then, he turned off the phone entirely and took the battery out quickly. He looked to the now very suspicious Arthur and smiled brightly. "Hey, do mind staying here, Arthur? I'll get your suitcase!"

"I said I don't need to stay here, you idiot!" snapped Arthur, eyeing him now with a lot of worry in those unnaturally green eyes of his. "What the fuck is going on here? Why are you so bloody antsy and what happened at the White House, eh?"

Alfred's smile, for once, looked more hollow than anything Arthur had seen in a very long time; at the very least he had not seen Alfred's smile not be genuine since the Vietnam War, the Korean War, and especially World War II after Hawaii was attacked and brutally scarred from the Pearl Harbor attack. Of course the scar had not been a big one, but it was enough to make even the usually cheerful nation turn into a very pissed off, raging nation with guns. "It's nothing, really, Arthur. Besides, you've got your own issues back home, right? Lots of guys trying to demand Sharia Law be implemented and whatever over there, right?"

Arthur put the tea down and stood up. "What's going on, Alfred," asked Arthur again as he walked right up to Alfred and looked up at him. "You look bloody awful."

"I think," began Alfred softly, swallowing slowly, "I think my president is trying to destroy me."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur, furrowing those thick eyebrows of his.

"It's been going on for a while," said Alfred, still not raising his voice very far. It dawned on Arthur why he would take the battery out of his phone and keep his voice soft: he was afraid his house and phone was bugged.

"Explain," said Arthur.

"The President," said Alfred slowly, "he keeps insulting the American people who oppose him. He keeps saying things like they're only 'right wing radicals' or they're just 'angry white folks' or some stupid shit like that to demoralize or whatever the people who don't agree or say what he wants them to. He told me to not listen or watch Fox News or to Rush Limbaugh, saying they were inciting and instigating the sentiment and spreading false information about his policies, but they're the only ones saying anything that is directly reflected by my girls.

"And just today he asked me to talk to the states and tell him what they think or what they've been saying and then implied he was going to go talk to them himself," said Alfred quickly as he clenched his teeth, "starting with California."

Arthur's thick eyebrows shot up into his messy blonde hair and he backed away unsteadily. He knew California was Alfred's favorite and what's more she was the one that helped rehabilitate Alfred after the Vietnam War. This was beyond anything Arthur had ever seen of the man himself, but he always had the strange sense that the American president was far colder than he ought to have been. At least with the previous president he could see the man genuinely cared about the freedoms of the American people and keeping the American people safe as well as anyone else in the world that asked. The only problem was that he sounded like a complete idiot when he spoke and was easily distractible, much like Alfred himself.

"I'll stay at the house," said Arthur softly, "Get yourself to California and see your Mia." Alfred nodded and moved away from Arthur. Arthur had an idea of why Alfred asked for Arthur to stay at the house, now. It was in case someone came to the Jones' residence and tried to ransack it for information. If what Alfred had described was true, then what they had on their hands was something dangerous and potentially explosive. The American people, as mirrored in Alfred, would not stand still and let someone trample on them without a fight. Arthur only hoped things would resolve themselves soon and peacefully. The alternative was unthinkable. Who would ever trust the American people again if their elected representative turned out to be someone like the bastards Arthur had seen behind Germany and Russia?

When Alfred hailed a cab and darted off for the airport, Arthur was left pondering over the events of the day. He could only hope that Alfred was wrong and just being paranoid. Things were getting worse and worse everyday.


	2. Part Two

_A/N: you know the drill by now. I listen to Rush Limbaugh and watch the news, I just see in my head canon how poor Alfred is._

**Worse and Worse**

_Part Two_

"Aga, where are you?" Matthew Williams, Canada, looked around in the house that belonged to his on and off girlfriend Alaska. As Alfred F. Jones' twin brother he had the same face, eyes and hair color and build as his brother, to the point that everyone forgot who he was and assumed he was Alfred with long hair. This often got him in trouble with the likes of Cuba or other such people when Alfred did something to irritate someone inadvertently. Matt often wondered if Alfred was actually aware of how rude he could be or not. Given Alfred's usual nature, Matt doubted it greatly.

"Aga!" Matt cried again. He heard a radio going and walked to it. She was probably outside playing with the wolves again and forgot to tell him where she went. They were in her home further north in the wilderness. She had her main home in Anchorage, and an official house in Juneau where she went to stay when she was dealing with the Governor directly. This home in the woods, however, was her real home. It was everything that was inherently Aga Tukkuttok. It was built with great influence from her, it was in the woods where hardly anyone knew where it was, and outside she was close to the wildlife. He knew how much she loved her solitude and the wild animals that she had grown up with.

And then he heard the voice he really didn't wish to hear while he was visiting one of the states ring across the radio with his deliberate and careful tone. The American president always chafed Matt's nerves the wrong way. He suspected he did that to pretty well everyone that he suspected wasn't in his back pocket, but out of politeness to Alfred he didn't say anything about it. What was that ass saying this time?

"We are having a vigorous debate in the United States," said the president, "and I think that's a healthy thing. I've said that the…the Canadian model works for Canada, it would not work for the United States, in part simply because we've evolved differently. I suspect that you Canadians will continue to get dragged in by—uh—those who oppose reform, even though I've said nothing about Canadian health care reform. Uh—I don't find Canadians particularly scary, but, I guess, uhh..."

What the hell was the president doing? Was he apologizing for something he had no idea about? Matt rubbed his temples a moment and pushed his glasses up his nose before he reached for the dial on the radio. The president spoke up again as he did so. "Some of the opponents of," he laughed, "reform think that they make a good bogeyman. I think that's a mistake."

And Matt thought Alfred spoke without thinking too often.

He turned off the radio and switched on the C.D. player. He had given her several native songs on a C.D. previously that were from his native peoples. He noticed on the windowsill she had a doll in the shape of Ivan Braginsky, Russia, smiling a little too cheerfully at him. He knew she kept one of him, Canada, on her nightstand and knew that it had been Louisiana that had made them, but it didn't really make him comfortable that there was one of Russia staring at him unnaturally cheerful as he looked at it.

He finally noticed some movement and Aga was walking back through the bushes and trees with wood in her arms for the fireplace. She picked up an axe and put the wood down on a block where she proceeded to swing the axe down on it and split the wood pieces into more manageable pieces. Watching her like this, he could see that she was very used to being on her own. He saw Kumajirou wander near her and sit down in the grass, munching on a fish he must have caught. The small polar bear, his friend and pet, was always with him and he seemed to enjoy the woody place of Aga's residence a little. He certainly could catch plenty of fish from the water not far away. Now, if only Matt could make the bear actually recognize him.

Matt wondered if Aga paid any real attention to the president as Alfred had to do. She certainly didn't seem to; for he was certain if she did she would be as angry as he had seen of many of the people the news media seemed to call "angry, Astroturf mobs". He found that sentiment incredibly unfair. Wasn't America supposed to have freedom of speech and freedom of assembly? It was like they didn't care what they said about the American people so long as it sounded as nasty as possible, but for what reason would they do that? Hell, why even apologize to Canadians for what someone said about their health care system? It made little sense to him.

Aga walked in and put the fresh wood next to the fireplace and dusted herself off. Even though it was summer, it was still quite chilly there and even colder at night. He dreaded what winter would be like if the summer was like this. Global warming his pasty ass!

"Ah—Aga? You wanted to be reminded about the meeting soon that you need to book a flight for. Shouldn't you do that—erm—I think a couple of months in advance?" asked Matt softly.

"Eh? Well, yeah, I suppose, but I've never had too much trouble trying to get south before. If worse comes to worse, I can ask Washington for a ride down. She won't mind. She's done it before," said Aga. She made a face, though, that made Matt chuckle a little. "Only problem is that she keeps yakking on and on about Twilight this and Stephanie Meyer that. I really dislike that author so much," she said, "If anything because Washington won't shut up about it. She even tries to tell me I'm in it just as much as she is, just because some character gets accepted to the University of Alaska Southeast in Juneau. I don't give a care."

Matt laughed softly and moved closer to her, blushing quite a bit. She usually either had her hair pulled back in a single, long braid or it was down, long and straight over her back. It was the latter this time and oh how he loved it. He reached down and combed his fingers through the shiny, straight locks, his cheeks heating up even more. She finally looked up at him and smiled at him, those gold eyes contrasting greatly with the deep tone of her skin.

"Was there something you wanted, Matt?" she asked.

"Y-you're…you're really pretty, you know that?" he said softly. He was always accused of never speaking above a whisper. Alfred was the boisterous sibling while Matt was often overlooked for the great and heroic America.

Aga's cheeks darkened and she stood up. Matt fidgeted a moment before sitting down at the table in the dining and kitchen area of the house. "Um—have you been listening to your radio much?" he asked.

She looked to it for a moment and shrugged. "Sometimes," she said, "But usually I'm busy doing other things. Alfred tends to listen to the radio more than I do. I guess that's why he's always so paranoid." Matt could agree with that, but given the way the American president acted he could also understand Alfred's paranoia greatly. It didn't take a genius to see there was something very fishy going on.

Kumajirou padded into the house and settled down on the wood flooring with his dinner still flipping around. Aga looked over for a moment to make sure he wasn't getting anything on the rugs and then let him get to eating his fresh kill. Matt, however, looked aghast at Kumajirou. "Kumajirou! You shouldn't mess up someone's floors with your dinner!"

Kumajirou looked up at him and then promptly ignored him, continuing to munch and get blood and fish guts on the wood floor. Aga snorted and pulled a knife from her boot, which she then started to use on a piece of wood. "I don't mind so long as he doesn't get it on the rugs. Those are hard to clean. Otherwise the blood won't mess up the wood much. I've just put a sealant on it to help keep it from drying out or warping. The last thing I need to do is fix a warped floor. Besides, you should see the mess I make when I butcher a seal in here."

Matt made a face, but kept his comments to himself. Seal wasn't his first choice in food and he was sure she had to travel even further north to get one with any real freshness. He reached over to the bowl in the center of the table and took out some candied dried fish and munched on it slowly as she carved silently. "I take it Mr. I-Don't-Want-People-To-Make-Fun-Of-My-Ears was talking on the radio," she said finally.

"E-eh…" Matt blushed again and looked to the stereo. "He was apologizing to Canadians for whatever slight some people must have uttered about our health care system. It was really stupid."

"I can bet," said Aga as she continued to carve carefully without looking up at him to speak. She looked up at him with those wolf-like eyes of hers finally and he smiled gently at her. She smiled again and went back to carving. "What are you carving now?" he asked softly.

"A wolf," she said, "I'm making it for you."

"What about that nice bear you made?" he asked. He had seen her working on a bear before that she had worked quite hard on.

"I sent it to someone," she muttered quickly. He suddenly knew who she had sent it to and frowned deeply. He knew she had a crush on the big, frozen nation, but she only saw him a couple of times since being found and sold to America as a small child. She looked up at him again and saw his disapproving look. She rolled her eyes and went back to carving. "It's not like I'm actively going over to Russia and giving him a present, but I heard he was having some difficulties from Alfred and I thought he might like something to cheer him up. It's not like I know exactly what he likes, but since the Russian bear is a symbol I thought he might like it."

Matt sighed and looked to his hands in his lap. "Aga, what do you think of me?" he asked.

"What do you think I think?" she asked right back. "I don't let just anyone up here, you know."

That was true. Aga was very selective of the people she allowed to come to her house in the woods. "I mean, do you like me?" he asked. Her cheeks darkened as she busied herself in her carving. Matt's cheeks grew hot as he attempted to keep himself from stuttering what he wanted to say. "I… I-I-I know you belong to Alfred and all," he said, "B-but… do you…um…love me?"

Aga said nothing as she carved carefully with nimble fingers, occasionally pulling out smaller knives to get in a better shape. Matt sat back and looked back to the radio playing the native folk music. After a while she put the carving down and stood up, stretching with her arms over her head. As she did so he saw her shirt ride up and saw the black wolf paw print on her belly peeking at him from the top of her jeans and belt. He could recall many times since she had had that tattooed onto her when he had looked at it with no small measure of hunger to kiss that spot as many times as he could until she was either giggling from it tickling her or moaning for more than just that.

And he enjoyed both reactions immensely, most especially the latter. She was cold skinned like Russia—the first time he had shaken bare hands with that nation had made him wonder if that nation weren't already dead—but when he finally warmed her up she ran very hot. He watched as she moved closer to him and straddled his lap, putting her legs through the space under the arms of his chair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him slowly, her lips chilly against his, but soft. She was no where near as cold skinned as _that_ nation had been!

Matt kissed back gently, his mouth opening to her efforts and his tongue moving against hers enough to make her moan into his mouth. His hands moved down over her back to her hips where he ran his fingers over the second tattoo she had on her lower back. It was something tribal that he didn't recognize at all, more or less a bunch of lines, but it fit perfectly with her. She moved her hips into him a bit as he touched her until she moved away from his mouth to breathe, her blood rushing through her body quickly. Her skin had heated up considerably as they had kissed. "Yes," she said softly, "I do love you, Matt."

Matt smiled and kissed her again, his fingers going into her straight, black hair. She moaned softly again as he kissed her deeply, once more that tongue of his exploring her mouth like an expert. Kumajirou, however, made a very loud squelching noise with his fish that reminded Matt that he was still in the room. Matt flushed hotly and ran his hands over Aga's back. "Ah… a-ah… could we perhaps do this later?" he asked. Aga laughed and he couldn't help the smile spreading across his lips. "I take that as a yes."

"Yeah, yeah," she said and kissed his nose before moving off his lap and walking over to the kitchen. "Now, time to make dinner."

"No seal, right?" asked Matt warily.

"No seal," Aga said, nodding.

* * *

Arthur eyed Alfred's main computer in Alfred's bedroom. Alfred was gone, of course, to California to get away from the ridiculousness that he was going through and left Arthur to care for the house. Arthur informed his prime minister that he might not follow back home to the island, but instead stay behind until Alfred came home, as well as informing his prime minister that he was not to tell the American president about it. Arthur wanted to see if Alfred's paranoia was founded or not. And so, he was staring at Alfred's desktop computer with no small measure of interest.

Arthur turned it on and sat down in the plush desk chair. His feet barely touched the ground, thanks to the difference between their heights. He fixed the height of the chair and rolled himself into a comfortable position against the desk and watched as the welcome screen came up with the American flag waving in some unknown wind. The music as it started up was the Star Spangled Banner, or a small part of it, which made Arthur roll his eyes at the display of it all. Arthur couldn't really speak, though, since he too had a start up screen of the Union Jack and God Save the Queen playing. Just because he did it didn't mean it was tasteful!

He made sure the thick curtains were drawn so no one could see it was him inside the house. He had had the prime minister send his suitcase to the house in a box and then very carefully brought the package inside the house. Currently, he was wearing some of his off-time clothes of a T-shirt with the Union Jack on it, jeans and red and white trainers. He might dress himself up in a much more radical fashion, but he didn't want to look too different from Alfred, although it was doubtful Alfred would ever again wear the Union Jack on anything.

He checked the history links in Alfred's Firefox browser and went about seeing what all Alfred had seen before seeing the president. Most of the links were to videos, though some were from some news sites, Google was definitely used in a lot of cases, likely searching for the news site articles he was seeing. He opened a few videos and watched them one after the other, mostly of the American president talking about the health care bill, or someone else doing the talking. The man chafed him something awful whenever he spoke. It was as though the man was talking to a child that couldn't understand that his way was the way things worked.

He came across one meeting where the AARP were talking to their members in Dallas and watched as the meeting started off with a woman talking about the AARP wanting to listen to the members' concerns as well as tell the members of their intentions, however it degraded as soon as it started when the same woman told the members that they were going to listen to the AARP and not the other way around. It degraded further when one man suggested that people stand up and have their say to the AARP representative, but the representative immediately told the man "Well, this isn't your meeting, sir." The man countered the representative with, "Who do you work for? Do you work for us, or do we work for you?"

And then the woman packed up her materials and left the members while saying, "I'm through. We clearly can't have an open discussion." What open discussion? She was telling them how to talk to her and to listen to only her, but when someone suggested an easy way to solve the problem of people talking at once she verbally slapped the fellow and then flounced out. What was this madness?

He clicked on another video, but the events in it were clearly right after the fight had begun. Either way, the people wearing S.E.I.U. seemed to be attacking someone. He found a link right after that in Alfred's history and found Alfred looked up what had been happening through Google. He clicked on the link after that and found what was happening. Apparently, the man that had been attacked was simply selling some flags and the guards, the ones wearing the S.E.I.U. shirts, were attacking him because he was selling those flags that read "Don't Tread On Me".

Alfred had said things were bad, but hired thugs to attack people protesting the health care bill? He looked up more in Alfred's internet history. There were people not allowed inside town hall meetings with their representatives, people shouting to be heard, there were people attacked out right or escorted away for getting angry and shouting at their congressmen for not listening to them. The speaker of the House of Representatives called the movement an "Astroturf" movement and falsely accused them of wearing or carrying swastikas, thereby implying they were Nazis or simply a fake uprising of the people to get media attention. The people he saw almost to tears as they tried to get their representatives to listen to them were most definitely not fake; if they were then they were the world's greatest actors.

It got worse when he looked at the day's entries. A video taken from Fox News showed a man who had been telling his representative that the bill clearly did not have anything for his disabled son. The representative in turn said, "Well, don't worry; we'll put an amendment into it for people like your son."

What person thought like this?! He just confirmed that there was no such thing in the bill and refuted his own claims that the bill was beneficial to everyone while dismissing the man entirely! The man had been escorted from the room with his son in a wheelchair and the video showed the man on Fox News being interviewed by a very pretty blonde woman. The man then told the reporter that he had been threatened in the middle of the night by the thugs that helped the representatives. "I will use whatever means I have to me, lethal force if necessary, to protect my son and my wife," said the man, "Your message has been received. My wife is terrified. We haven't told our son about it. But if you—if I ever catch you on my property I will take the risk of going to jail to protect my family."

Arthur felt like he was in the middle of a conspiracy thriller. The freedoms of the Americans were being pushed away, the American people, as Arthur knew them so well to behave, stood up against that which was threatening them, their own government, and the government was hitting back with lies, deceit and threats. A quick look through the other news sources showed that these things were not being reported, or were glossed over as the falsified ravings of crazy people. Arthur felt sick as he watched it cross the screen. He now knew why Alfred was so frightened.

"Have you seen orchestrated town halls like this in your career at any time? Does this remind you of the sixties?" asked a reporter to a representative, the same one the man with the son in a wheelchair had been yelling at.

"Well, the last time I had to confront something like this was when I voted for the civil rights bill and my opponent voted against it. At that time, we had a lot of Ku Klux Klan folks and white supremacists and folks in white sheets and other things running around causing trouble," said the representative.

Arthur rubbed his temples. They were comparing ordinary people to the Nazis, to the KKK, calling them racists practically for disagreeing with the health care bill and the president. This was unreal!

Arthur stopped and turned off the sound when he heard something downstairs in the house. He frowned and moved away from the desk slowly and moved very silently to the bedroom door, his Walther PPK in hand. He opened the door very slowly and peered out at the banister. He heard noises of someone moving around so he looked down the hall in both directions and moved toward the stairs. He saw shadows then before the lights all went out.

Now he knew something was up. He moved silently down the stairs, keeping his back to the wall so he could see both down the stairs and up and peered into the moonlit room before him. He saw two men, both of whom were searching through something, probably something of Alfred's. He fired a warning shot between them and watched as they shot apart, looked to him and started toward him. He shot one in the knee and the other in the foot. They both screamed in pain and the one with the injured foot grabbed his compatriot and limped as fast as he could from the room.

Arthur didn't immediately come off his guard. He continued through the rest of the house to see if there were anymore. The front door had been left wide open from the pair escaping, the lock picked and the chain lock broken. He found no one else in the house and finally closed the door and put a block up against it to keep anyone else from coming in without some force as he locked it. He found the fuse box in the basement and turned the lights back on. There had to have been a third in the house that he had not seen, for he could not figure out how all the lights had gone out with two searching through something already. However, he guessed, since he found no one else in the house, that whoever did the lights had fled the same way as the other two.

He walked back, his gun still in hand, wary still, and found the book they were looking through. It was the names and addresses of all the state women, phone numbers, e-mails, alternative addresses and phone numbers for them. Whoever did this clearly wanted to get at the state ladies. Arthur frowned deeply and checked around three more times before finally settling down back in Alfred's room where he turned the computer off, took a shower and went to bed. He just hoped Alfred was relaxing well enough in California, because he clearly had a real, true to life problem on his hands.


	3. Part Three

_A/N: Alexander Rybak is a fiddling GOD. oAo He's not THE Fiddling God, but he is A god. . the "the" title is reserved for someone in particular. I'd type his name out if my mind wasn't having a massive brainfart on it. -.o Also… the old Dune soundtrack is LOVE. 3_

**Part Three**

Alfred was having a far better time in California than he had in Washington. Mia Brown, California, a beautiful young woman with long, straight blonde hair, golden tanned skin, gold eyes and a beautiful smile, had greeted him with open arms and a warm kiss to his lips. She fed him some of his favorite hamburgers, which she grilled herself, and watched him eat heartily the delicious burgers until there was nothing left of them. He always did have a very big appetite, but doubly so when he was stressed and trying not to worry her. It was a futile task since he constantly worried her be it him going to the Middle East to fight with his fellow Marines, his favorite of the military, flying jets, another favorite activity of his, or just simply being in Washington with all those congress men and women who seemed constantly to say one thing or other that continually upset Alfred's already paranoid nature.

Bjorn, Mia's stunted pet grizzly bear, growled happily as he played with Alfred after dinner, tugging on a rope generally used for dogs to play with while Alfred chuckled and enjoyed himself. Mia watched, smiling gently, at the happy grin on Alfred's face as he tugged and pulled on Bjorn's rope, pulled him close and rolled around with him with ease. Alfred's physical strength was legendary practically. According to one story England had told to the other girls was that when he took Alfred as his charge Alfred had gone right up to a buffalo and swung it around by the front hooves as though the animal weighed nothing; this of course, this was when Alfred was little more than a very small boy. Come to think of it, that was probably one of the reasons Alfred ate so much. Mia shook her head and continued putting dishes into the dishwasher and turned it on.

Alfred looked up at her from the floor as he lay on his back with Bjorn sitting triumphantly on top of him, his glasses askew a bit on his face. He smiled at Mia with that bright smile of his and those bright blue eyes of his. His eyes were the color of the sky; they **were** the sky. "What?" he asked her, chuckling.

"Nothing, Alfred. I'm enjoying watching you play with Bjorn, of course. Bjorn loves it when you come to visit," said Mia, smiling gently at him.

Alfred started to say something when his secondary, private, cellphone rang out loudly with "_Let freedom ring! Let the white doves sing! Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning!_" Alfred picked it up and flipped it open, grinning. "Yeah? Who is this?" His face changed slightly, frowning more and more as he pulled the phone away from his face and looked to the number, then put it back to his ear. Mia blinked at him, frowning herself. "Virginia, calm down… what's going on?" So it was Virginia? "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Alfred, what's wrong?" asked Mia. He held up a hand to keep her silent as he tried to talk to what Mia could hear was a rather distressed Virginia.

"I'm on vacation, Virg. I'm sorry. Relay what you just told me so the other girls can get the heads up. Okay? Go elsewhere afterward and use your private cell phone. I don't think this is isolated," said Alfred quickly. Then, he hung up and put the phone into his jacket before sitting up and placing Bjorn on the floor. "Virginia's had a break in. None of the old relics were taken, nothing expensive, just her address book."

"Alfred, what is going on?" asked Mia softly, looking at him in concern.

"I've… I've got an idea, but nothing to back it up," said Alfred as he stroked his lip, thinking, his young face hardened into one a bit older.

"What sort of an idea? Alfred, what's going on?" asked Mia softly, putting her hands on his arm gently.

"I think the president is trying to get the girls to agree with him on that ridiculous healthcare bill, to get them to help quell the protesting," said Alfred, "He was… very insistent when I spoke to him last. He… he wanted to talk to you first, but I refused to give him any numbers." Mia blinked those big gold eyes of hers in confusion. She knew Alfred could be quite paranoid, but why on Earth would a U.S. president make Alfred so nervous? Alfred shook his head at her and pulled her hands to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned down and kissed her soundly on her lips. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed.

"Don't think on it right now, okay? Just… help me keep my mind off of things for a little while. I don't think I can take much more of this without cracking a bit," he said, smiling at her a bit to show he was trying to joke with her. It was failing, though. Even still, she smiled gently at him and took his phone away and turned it off, putting it aside. Then, she kissed him warmly, deepening the kiss gently. Alfred groaned softly into her mouth as he responded in kind and held her closer. In no time his muscles were relaxing a bit more and he was holding her tightly against him, panting gently against her mouth. With little effort, he picked Mia up into his arms and walked to her room with her where he enjoyed forgetting the stresses of the government in her loving arms.

* * *

"Arthur, why did you ask me to come down here?" asked Matthew Williams, Canada, looking curiously at his older brother Britain. Matt was almost totally identical to Alfred except in his demeanor and his hair was longer and wavy like Francis' hair. Unlike Francis, the personification of France, however, he tended to not pull it back into a ponytail. Besides, Aga liked to play with his hair a lot.

Arthur looked up from his Walther PPK and put the pistol away, picking up the address book that kept most of the contacts still inside of it that he had rescued from the intruders and handed the book to Matt. "This address book contains all the contacts Alfred keeps, including yours, mine, and all his states. Look to 'V' section." Matt did as he was bid and found it missing. He looked at Arthur with a rather puzzled expression. Arthur fixed his unnaturally green gaze at Matt for a long moment before looking away. "I stopped a pair of intruders from stealing the whole thing, but they had managed to take a few sections out."

"Why would anyone steal numbers out of Alfred's address book?" asked Matt as he looked through it. He noticed that it was fairly old with black leather binding. Some of the pages had yellowed slightly and some of the named and numbers had been crossed out. One name was of a woman named Dr. Magaret "Maggie" Peterson. There, under her name, were several addresses and several numbers, all of which were crossed out as well as her name with a "D" beside the name. There were several women, in fact, with the "D" put next to their crossed out names. Matt figured out that the "D" must mean that the people were dead and the multiple numbers and addresses meant he kept in close contact with the person. Matt closed the book quickly and put it down. This was Alfred's private life he was looking at. Damn him! He always managed to get all the girls!

"I think you can very well figure out why someone would want the addresses and numbers of some of Alfred's contacts," said Arthur stiffly, eyeing Matt from under his thick eyebrows. "The States he is in constant contact with, he also knows several people in the government and out of the government, he has our names and such-like inside those address books as well. That sort of information would be very valuable to a person or group of persons if they want to control Alfred or control those people."

"What are you suggesting; that the American president is a dictator or something?" asked Matt in his usually very soft voice. An accusation of that sort was never something to be tossed around lightly.

"I have no proof other than what Alfred has told me, albeit in a scatter-brained fashion, or what I've seen evidenced in videos online and what's in the news. People are protesting at these so-called 'town halls' and showing up with signs protesting the president, congress and the healthcare bill, meanwhile the president and the congress men and women, a goodly number of them, have been berating the protesters, or they have these thugs with them all wearing purple shirts with the letters S.E.I.U. emblazoned across their chests." He put his Walther PPK back into its holster under his jacket and looked to Matt carefully. "I need you to stay here and make sure someone doesn't break in again. Keep a gun on you."

"But I don't own a gun—"

"Then, use this." Arthur took the Walther PPK out of its holster and handed it to Matt with the safety on. "Take the safety off when you need to use it. Otherwise, be careful with it. It's my favorite."

"Big brother, I," began Matt, but Arthur shook his head, "Why are you asking me to do this? I… I can't sh-shoot someone… um…"

"Yes, you can and you have," snapped Arthur, forcing shy Matt to stiffen slightly, "You've been in wars, fought bravely and shot many people. This is no different." Arthur then ruffled his messy hair and grumbled. "This mess is mad. I can't believe I'm actually siding with Alfred's ridiculous paranoia on this."

"Where are you going?" asked Matt.

"I have been invited to the White House for a personal interview with the American president. When I come back I'll tell you what transpired, meanwhile, I'll need you here to protect the house," said Arthur. With that, Arthur made his way to the door and walked out, snapping the door shut quickly, leaving Matt holding his Walther PPK rather awkwardly and looking more than a little bewildered.

* * *

There was a knock on the door of the oval office. The 44th President of the United States of America lifted his dark head and looked to the hidden panel door built into the side of the room with his dark eyes. "Yes?" In walked one of his aids and she nodded to him. He smiled, though the smile didn't reach those dark eyes of his. "Yes?" he asked again.

"Your three o'clock appointment is here, Mr. President," said she with a bright smile, "The British Prime Minister's assistant, is what I believe he referred to himself as? Sir Arthur Kirkland is his name."

"Yes, I asked for him to come see me this afternoon. Please let him in, miss," said the president. With that, she walked out and in walked, in an almost James Bond fashion, a relatively short young man in his twenties with unruly, wild blonde hair, sharp, unnaturally colored green eyes that peered out through the wild hair from under thick eyebrows, and a stud in each ear that reflected the light in front of him from the window behind the president. He wore a finely tailored suit that, while he was clearly quite thin and wiry, seemed to compliment him quite well. The door snapped shut after the embodiment of Britain walked in and stood before the president with his hands casually in his pockets. "_Sir_ Arthur?" asked the president, putting emphasis on "sir" with a little humor showing up.

"Is there a problem with my being knighted?" asked Arthur.

"No, I just don't hear it often," said the president.

"Well, you called me here to talk to you directly, so get on with it," said Arthur in a rather cold tone, eyeing the president coolly from under those thick eyebrows of his.

"Well," said the president, "I've never actually had an opportunity to speak with you, as I recall, and, well, I think it would be a good way to get to know the others of your kind. You are, after all, the embodiment of the United Kingdom, right?"

"In a way, I suppose. I take that name, but originally I was England. I have three older brothers: Scotland, Ireland and Wales. We also had a mother that I don't remember that well who was called 'Britannia'," said Arthur as he continued to stand away from the desk. "Are you not going to ask me to sit?"

"Ah! Forgive me; please sit, Mr. Kirkland," said the president as he gestured to a seat in front of the desk. Arthur took one two seats in front of the desk and crossed his legs as he leaned back a bit in the chair, folding his hands as his elbows rested on the arms of the chair. "What are your brothers like, then?"

"They're drunkards, but Scotland and Ireland both are mean drunkards," said Arthur.

"I notice you have pierced ears," said the president, gesturing to his own ears, "I would've expected a proper Englishman like you to not go for something like that." Arthur shrugged, but didn't answer him much further than that. In truth, Arthur had been drunk when he had them pierced and he suspected the reason they were both pierced was because he couldn't remember which one was, most commonly called, the "gay ear". It wasn't as though he had never had pierced ears before.

"Well, what about things you enjoy doing?" asked the president, smiling, though, again, it didn't reach his dark eyes, though he leaned back and smiled casually at Arthur as though he were just enjoying a nice, laid-back conversation with the nation before him.

Arthur leaned back a bit more casually and held a small smile on his face, though he kept his expressions to a minimum. "Well, I enjoy many things, most of them being cooking, drinking, and every now and then getting a group of lads together in a band and show the rest of the world how proper rock-and-roll is played."

"Oh? You have a band?" asked the president.

"Occasionally," answered Arthur. "I most often sing, though I have been known to take out my guitar and play."

"That's nice," said the president. "I enjoy many things myself, of course." He went silent a moment, as though thinking about what he wanted to say next and then smiled that unconvincing smile of his toward Arthur. "What about Alfred? Alfred, unfortunately, never told me much about himself. I only know that he likes hamburgers, really likes them, likes playing baseball and the Yankees, and likes to talk about his fellow nations a lot."

"Alfred is hyperactive, likes thinking himself a great hero of the world and has a fascination with all sorts of gadgetry. He doesn't like to drink a lot, doesn't swear a great deal, and likes to butt into everyone's business," said Arthur.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid that's how we've always ended up being perceived," said the president, "I'm here to change that view for the better. You see, I want the world to know that we're not the arrogant nation that holds such derisive, dismissive feelings toward the others. We're a good, solid nation with, admittedly, many flaws. Your universal healthcare is something I think would be a great addition to our country, but, unfortunately, all of the people seem to have a misunderstanding of it and think it'll kill our economy as well as the people."

"And you think I'll somehow manage to convince them?" asked Arthur calmly.

"Actually, I'm simply explaining what problems we have right now. I'm—admittedly, I'm at a loss as to how to approach Alfred with trying to convince everyone else. You have universal healthcare, Canada has universal healthcare, many nations around the world have the same thing and you are so much better for it!" said the president. Arthur would have laughed if he thought the man was simply an idiot. Instead, Arthur stayed silent to let the man continue speaking.

The president folded his hands in front of him on the desk and looked imploringly at Arthur. "Please, understand that what I'm trying to do is simply help make America better, make it like the other nations, like you. You're a great nation. Perhaps you could talk to Mr. Jones and help him understand that I'm not trying to hurt him."

"He's not taking calls?" asked Arthur.

"Oh, he is, he just doesn't listen to me," said the president. That was a lie, the president didn't have Alfred's private cellphone number as far as Arthur could tell and the other one still had the battery out of it sitting on the hall table. He leaned back again and smiled that unconvincing smile once more. "I've heard from Alfred that there are meetings with the other nations. Is it like the U.N.?"

"In a sense, I suppose. We gather more often than the United Nations does," said Arthur, "Only nations are allowed, no states or protectorates, colonies or what-have-you. Only recognized nations can be in the meeting."

"That sounds like it must be very hectic," said the president.

"It is a lot of the time; especially when Turkey and Greece come to one, or Israel and Palestine join in. Neither one of them gets along with the one another," said Arthur, "Other times it just gets loud as America tries to come up with some ridiculous solution to a matter that means very little to anyone else, strictly speaking, and when it gets loud you'll have Germany shouting above the mess or Switzerland cutting people off."

"Ridiculous solutions to problems no one cares about? Such as?" asked the president.

"Global warming," said Arthur, "He tried to convince us once that we could build a giant robot to save us from global warming. In the grander scheme of things that hardly matters to anyone, honestly. We've all seen cold times and hotter times. Reduction of pollution, yes, that is a very good idea, but in all honesty, Alfred is simply trying to be the 'hero of the world' again."

For once Arthur was pleased to see a look of confusion cross the American president's face. "I… see," said the president as he attempted to regain his composure. "Well, in truth, it isn't just a small problem. There is evidence out there that proves there is a growing warming trend that we can't ignore."

"Either way, more pressing issues are at hand," said Arthur.

"Such as keeping—eh—Israel and Palestine from killing each other, right?" asked the president.

"In a sense, I suppose. That's usually taken care of by Switzerland and Germany cutting them off or throwing them out when they get too rowdy," said Arthur. "And it does get very rowdy sometimes."

"Perhaps you could talk to Alfred and help him… understand my point of view," said the president. "I need him to talk to the other girls, who seem to not want to talk to me at all. It makes me very sad to have this happen."

"He controls his own women, or rather they control him. You have no say, honestly." Arthur then stood up and straightened his tie. "If that's all we're going to talk about I might as well leave."

There was a knock and the air leaned in again, smiling at the president. "Mr. President, there is a Miss Aashiyana Singh on line four. Would you like me to hold her a while longer or ask her to call back?"

Arthur stopped in his tracks and his mind suddenly reeled at the name, the same feeling he always had when he heard her name sweeping over him like electricity. India. That's right; America and India had really good relations now. India had good relations with practically everyone. The thought nauseated him of just how "good" those "relations" were and he had to lean on the chair he stood up from to keep from falling over or vomiting in that wretched office. The president seemed to pick up on Arthur's distress and said calmly to the aid, "Go ahead and tell her to call back, please. Tell her I'm sorry, but I must postpone speaking with her a while longer."

The aid nodded and walked out, closing the door seamlessly into the rest of the wall. Arthur sat down again and rubbed his face a bit. "Is there something matter, Mr. Kirkland?" asked the president, "You look a little ill."

"It's nothing. Mild nausea, is all," said Arthur absently.

"Perhaps it was something you ate?" asked the president, his voice a bit more calculating than previously. "India is a really nice country, isn't it? Very nice and warm and Miss Singh is a very lovely woman."

"What business would America have with India, anyway?" asked Arthur a bit more tersely than he meant.

"Actually, I just wanted to talk with her about the businesses going overseas. I know she doesn't have much of a hand in that, but I'm sure it would help our relationship with India if we knew the driving reasons for that. Speaking of which, I should schedule a time to speak with the Chinese." He went silent and eyed Arthur a moment and smiled oddly, "Is there a problem with me talking to Miss Singh? She is, after all, India, correct? It's a little hard to keep all these people straight sometimes. I feel I should have as close a contact with them all as much as I can since, as president of The United States of America and the duly elected representative of the American people, I should get to know all of these interesting nations as well as I can."

"India can bloody well do what she wants. I don't fucking care," snapped Arthur, eyeing the president coldly.

"Bad relations still with India?" asked the president.

"What does it matter to you?" Arthur grunted and stood up again, albeit, he wobbled slightly from his nausea earlier, but he managed to straighten himself up again and glare at the president. "If you want so badly to get to know Alfred, then by God do so. Talk to him and treat him like you would your best friend. He's thick in the head and eager to please."

"But, perhaps you could tell him I'm trying to do just that, since you clearly aren't being screened," said the president.

"Fucking hell—do you have no shame? He's busy right now and doesn't want to be bothered. Leave him the fuck alone, you fucking twat! And for fuck's sake, look out the fucking window once in a while and actually listen to people!" With that, Arthur walked to the door and opened the door quickly and slammed the door behind him as he left. As he walked away from the white house, he pulled out his cell phone and rang Matt's phone, putting his sunglasses on. "Canada," said Arthur tersely into the phone, "You're staying there. I need to get home. I'll loan you my other pistol and take back my Walther PPK, thank you. No, don't argue with me on this. You're Alfred's bloody twin, so fucking act like it for a while until he comes back. Ask Quebec and the others to keep an eye on things back home for you. I don't have the fucking luxury." Then, he snapped the phone shut and made his way back to Alfred's D.C. home and took out his bags quickly while Matt stood off looking extremely annoyed, but also very worried. He then left very quickly without another word to Matt after gathering his Walther PPK and handing over his back-up pistol to the shy nation.


End file.
